


Take My Hand

by a_yapping_tragedy



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Depression, M/M, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Tags May Change, Tags may be added, be warned, no beta we die like men, some fluff :), trying not to spoil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_yapping_tragedy/pseuds/a_yapping_tragedy
Summary: George is flailing, drowning is his own self-hatred and insecurities.But Dream is there holding out his hand, whispering lies and promises, the two mingling. George, on his last breath and seeing no way out, decides to trust Dream with his life.So George takes his hand.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first work on this website, so bear with me :) I find it hard to write a piece of work using names like Dream and Sapnap, but I'd rather not get hate for using their real names lmao 
> 
> This is a fic about Dream and George. If either creator expresses discomfort about this fic or fanfictions in general, this work will be taken down. 
> 
> **TAGS MAY BE CHANGED OR ADDED**  
> This is a fic that includes depression, suicidal thoughts, somewhat attempted suicide, and may include other triggers.  
> Since I don't know too much on where this story is going to go, and to avoid spoiling too much, I advise you to read at your own discretion. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_What seems like the end,_

_is only the beginning..._

\---

The wind across his face. The smell of the city. The sounds of honking horns and bustling streets.

George breaths it in, taking in the all-to-familiar sights of New York. While he has only been in New York for a short bit, he has been to the top of his apartment building one to many times, to the point where it has become a very familiar place. His own place, where he sits for hours to think, write, and study. A place for him to have peace, a place that doesn't feel as suffocating as the four walls of his apartment does.

George sighs, his feet dangling over the edge of his astonishing 25-floor high apartment building. He observes the people below him, watching them go about their lives, unknowing of the 19-year-old boy far above them.

He swings his feet back and forth.

George knows he should go back inside, back to his claustrophobic apartment. After all, he does have papers to write and tests to study for. Yet, a voice in the back of his head quietly tells him it would be a waste of time, he's so close to failing all his classes anyways. That it would be worthless, that _he's worthless_.

He scoots closer to the edge of the roof. 

Colombia University was supposed to be his chance, his escape. He left his hometown, his home country for this. Up and left London for New York. Left everything behind. He was supposed to excel at school, show his parents he was worth something. 

He leans forward. 

His first year went great. He did well at his schoolwork, even made a friend. It wasn't until after his friend left, ghosted him and never came back, did George realize he was utterly and truly alone. Alone, with only his schoolwork, apartment, and thoughts. 

He lost his only friend, and that friend managed to take his happiness with him. 

There's nothing here for him anymore. He'll have to go back to London, back to his parents, to once again show them that he's worth nothing. That he is a disappointment, just like they said he was all those years. He can't do that again, he can't go back. He won't go b-

"Hey! What are you doing?"

George was snapped out of his thoughts, interrupted from a voice behind him. He noticed that he was right on the edge of the ledge he was sitting at. He didn't know that he was unconsciously moving closer and closer while he was thinking. 

"What are you doing?" the voice behind him repeated, now closer.

George stared at the road far below him, before turning his head slightly, acknowledging him. "Sitting here," he replied quietly.

"You're awfully close to the edge. Why don't ya scoot back a little?" the voice, now beside him, said. 

George turned his head enough to look at him. He was male, with yellowish looking eyes that stared intently back at him. He was tall, around 6ft, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes slightly. He was wearing a disgustingly bright yellow sweater, which was odd, George thought.

The man before him tilted his head slightly, waiting. George turned his head back to the road below, watching. He felt the wind pick up, and he swayed forward a bit. The man beside him tensed.

"No," George said.

"No?" the man repeated, "why not?"

George sighed, "What's the point? Everything's gone to shit. I have nothing anymore."

The man inched a little closer. George kept his eyes in the road below him.

"I'm sure that's not true," the man said, his voice soft.

George bit his lip and shook his head. "It is. I... I've lost everything," he whispers, "I can't do this anymore."

He closes his eyes tightly, drawing in a deep breath. 

The stranger frowns, taking another step closer. "Look man, I understand. I've been there. I thought there wasn't a solution, but I pulled through," he said, "I don't know you, but I think you can do it too."

George laughed bitterly. "Everyone says that. That's like, the basic 'don't jump speech'. It's all bullshit. I've got no one, no one to give a crap about me."

George can feel the man's eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. He could almost see him out of the corner of his eye, so he turned his head a bit, not wanting to look at him. 

"What's your name?" The man asked abruptly.

"Sorry?"

"What's your name?" He repeated, slower.

George blinked. "Oh, it's.. George," he said.

The man smiled slightly. "Hello George. My names Dream. Can we be friends?"

George scoffed. "Friends? Why would you want to be friends with a boy you just met on the edge of a roof? A suicidal one, nonetheless?"

"Because I want to give a crap," Dream said. He slowly held a hand out towards George. "Let me give a crap."

George looked up at Dream. The boy had a smile on his face. He seemed friendly, but there was something in that smile that felt off. George's eyes flitted between Dream's outstretched hand and his eyes.

He knew he was drowning. He knew he was on a road with no exit. Yet, most of the time he couldn't find the energy to care. So, maybe, just maybe, he should let someone else care. 

George looked at Dream's hand again.

Dream reached his hand out a little more. "Take my hand."

George took a deep breath, and grabbed his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

George held his hand as he swung his legs back onto the safety of the apartment roof. He got to his feet, shakily. He gripped Dream's hand tightly, afraid to let go, afraid to lose the friend he had made just a few minutes ago. 

He let Dream slowly led him away from the edge of the roof. The cold November wind blew, making him shiver slightly. 

Dream stopped and turned to him. "Would you like to go inside?" He asked. "It's a tad chilly out here." 

George nodded mutely, letting go of his hand. 

They turned towards the door that led to the stairwell. 

"What floor?" Dream asked as they entered the stairwell, holding the door open for him. 

"14th," George replied. 

"Nice. I live on the 16th floor. We're practically neighbors," Dream joked as the descended the stairs to the next floor, where an elevator waited to save them a lengthy journey. 

"Practically," George muttered, looking down at the floor. He felt self-conscious, embarrassed even, for being 'rescued' on the roof. Was Dream actually going to be his friend? Or was he just lying to get him off that ledge? George had trust issues, so he was scared to get close to him. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to trust Dream. His mind was running overload, and he felt exhausted. 

As George mulled over his thoughts, not paying attention, they had reached the elevator. Inside, Dream hesitantly hovered his finger over button 16, before pressing 14. He glanced at George. The boy he had just met on the roof was deep in thought. Dream took this moment to carefully and properly assess George's features. He had rich dark brown hair, and matching eyes. He stood at about 5'9", with a slimmer build. Dream won't lie, he was kinda cute. 

The elevator dinged, pulling them both out of their thoughts. Dream noticed George's eyes were still a bit unfocused, perhaps due to the fact the boy almost lost his life. He gently placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Which room number?" Dream asked. 

George toyed with the hem of his shirt. "201," he replied. 

Dream nodded and glanced at the nearest door. 237. 

"C'mon, let's go," Dream said, keep his hand on George's shoulder, directing him. They walked down the hallway, Dream keeping an eye on the door numbers, George staring at the floor. Dream silently read the numbers in his head. 232.. 225.. 219.. 212.. We're close.. 206.. 201. 

Dream stopped in front of door 201 and turned to George. "Key?" He questioned. 

George stared at him blankly, brain processing. "Oh, yeah," he mumbled, fumbling with his jacket pockets. Nothing. He check his jean pockets, no result. George felt his face go red, embarrassed even more so. Where are his keys? Why is everything going wrong? Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, and he turned slightly away from Dream, who was watching silently. 

Dream frowned, placing his hands on George's shoulders and turning George back towards him. He leaned down slightly to look George in the eyes. "No, it's ok, it doesn't matter. You're fine, you're ok," Dream said softly, trying to comfort the boy. "It's ok, you don't have to cry." 

George looked into Dream's yellowish eyes and worried his lip between his teeth. "I don't understand, I just had them," he explained, tears falling freely. "Why is everything going wrong?" 

Dream felt bad for him. He knows what it feels like when everything is going wrong. He racked his brain for a solution. He couldn't just leave the boy locked outside his room. He checked his watch. 1:52am. 

"Ok, how about this? The front desk is closed right now, so why don't we head up to my room for the night? We'll go back down in the morning and get another key," Dream said, "I'll sleep on the couch, if that'll make you feel better." 

George contemplated this in his head. He just met this guy, but honestly? He had nowhere to go, no one else to stay with. If anything, he had nothing to lose if Dream ended up being a psycho serial killer. 

George blinked a few times, clearing his vision, and nodded. "Ok." 

Dream smiled slightly. "Alright, let's go." 

\--- 

When they got to Dream's room, Dream guided George to the couch and sat him down. 

"Would you like anything to eat, drink?" Dream asked. 

George shook his head. Dream looked at him for a second, before saying, "I'll be back in a minute," and heading off to the kitchen. 

George looked around Dream's apartment. He didn't really like it, it felt cold and not homey at all. He didn't see any family pictures or decorations, even the furniture was like completely new, not a single mark on them. He wondered if Dream just moved here and hasn't had time to set up anything yet. 

George's thoughts were interrupted when Dream came back, a glass of water in one hand, a piece of toast in the other. He placed them on the table in front of George, then sat beside him on the couch. 

"I know you said you didn't want anything, but I figured you might be hungry or thirsty or something. It's ok if you don't want to eat it, but I personally think you should," Dream said. He wasn't sure when the last time George ate was, but by the looks of his skinnier build, it was safe to say he didn't eat very often. 

George looked at Dream carefully, before hesitantly grabbing the glass of water and sipping it, ignoring the toast. Dream noted this with a slight frown. 

"So... would you like to talk about it?" Dream asked after a silent minute. 

George glanced at Dream, before slowly shaking his head. "I'm pretty tired, if you don't mind," he said, placing the water down. 

Dream jumped up. "Yeah, yeah, of course." He smiled at George. "C'mon, I'll take you to my room." 

George nodded and got up, trailing after Dream as they headed to his room. Dream opened the door and gestured inside. "In there is the bed, obviously," he said, chuckling a little. "Um, don't touch anything, and I'll be in the living room if you need something." 

Dream stepped out of the way, letting George past into the room. He started walking away, but turned around again. "Oh, also the bathroom is down this hall on the left, in case you need it," he said, turning around again and leaving. 

George nodded again. He didn't have to pee. He entered the room, quietly shutting the door. The walls were light grey, the bed in the corner, with the same gross yellowish blankets that matched Dream's sweater. There was a window, curtains closed. A desk was set up, with two monitors atop it. 

George walked to the bed. He was tired and was sure that it wouldn't take too long to sleep. He pulled the covers back and crawled into the bed. As he laid there, he could hear Dream talking to someone, presumably on the phone. He listened to Dream in the background, and fell asleep. 

\--- 

George awoke the next morning feeling a bit better, although his head hurt a little. He laid in the bed for a while, not wanting to get up, because Dream's blankets were comfortable. Eventually, though, his bladder started to hurt, so he forced himself up and to the bathroom. After doing his business, he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. And damn, he looked like shit. He tried patting down his hair, but one piece kept springing back up. Sighing, he gave up and exited the bathroom. 

In the living room , he spotted Dream sleeping on the couch, drooling a tad. George stood in the doorway of the hallway, contemplating just leaving. Dream becoming his friend last night was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing, and while he was grateful for the place to crash, he didn't want to remain a bother. 

George headed to the door, making sure to be quiet. After he closed the door behind him, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He headed to the elevator and down to the main floor, heading to the front desk after getting off the elevator. The lady there looked up when he approached. 

"Uh, hello," he greeted the lady at the front desk. 

She smiled back to him. "Hello, how can I help you today?" 

George smiled weakly back. "Yes, uh, I sorta lost my key and got locked out of my room yesterday. Is there a way I can get a temporary key?" he asked. 

"Yes, of course!" the lady replied, clicking in her computer a few times. "What room and floor are you on?" 

"14th floor, room 201," George said. 

"Ok, just a moment." The lady clicked around on her computer, occasionally typing. "Ok, are you George Davidson?" 

"Uh, yeah, that's me," he confirmed, nodding. 

"Alright," she smiled, "that'll be $75." 

George sputtered. $75 for a temporary key? He didn't have any money or anything with him, not even his phone. 

"Uh, $75? For the temporary key? Can't you just lend me one and I'll give it back? I don't have any money on me," George said, fidgeting. What if he couldn't get back in to his apartment? 

"I'm sorry, we can't do that." The lady gave him a tight-lipped smile. 

George sighed and put his head in his hands. What the fuck was he going to do now? 

As George thought about his situation, Dream came up behind him. 

"Hey, I was looking for you," Dream said, coming to stand at George's side. 

George snapped his head to look at Dream. "Oh, Dream. Sorry, just wanted to get my key," he laughed nervously. 

Dream smiled. "That's alright. Did you get it?" 

George broke eye contact, looking at his hands. "Uh, no," he frowned, "They cost $75, and I don't have any money." 

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, before shrugging. "That's no big deal" —he grabbed his wallet out of his pocket— "I'll cover it." He started to pull out his debit card. 

George panicked and grabbed Dream's forearm. "No! It's ok, you don't have too. Maybe my key is on the roof or something." 

"George, I know I don't have too, I want too. Plus, you don't exactly have any alternatives, do you?" Dream said, gently tugging his arm out of George's grasp and turning to the lady. "I'll cover the key." 

The lady nodded and Dream tapped his card. She handed the key to Dream, who turned and gave it to George. 

"C'mon, I'll walk you up," Dream said, turning away. George followed him. 

The lady watched them leave. It was too early on a Saturday morning for this. 

\--- 

When they got to George's door, Dream stopped and turned to him. 

"Here we are," he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

George nodded and put the key into the slot, but didn't turn it. Instead, he looked back at Dream. "About everything.. I'm sorry for being such a bother." 

Dream smiled. "It's ok, you weren't at all," he reassured, before taking a few steps back. "I'm gonna head back up to my room, alright?" he asked. 

George watched his retreating figure, before blurting out, "Wait!" 

Dream turned back around, a questioning look upon his face. 

George felt heat creep up his neck. "I.. I just want to know if you were being honest.." he swallowed, "when you said you'd be my friend?" His gaze was directed anywhere but Dream's face. 

Dream chuckled, "Yes, I was. You know what?" He walked towards George, pulling his phone out of his jean pocket, "can I actually have your number?" 

George gave him an absurd look. 

Dream burst out laughing. "No, not becau-" he wheezed, "no, because you're my friend, and I'll need to contact you." 

George blushed. "Oh, yeah, of course. Um, let me go get my phone real quick." He unlocked his door and rushed inside, reappearing a few moments later, phone in hand. He gave his phone for Dream to put his number in. 

A few taps later, Dream handed him his phone back with a smile on his face. "Alright George, I'll see you later," he said, spinning around and leaving. 

George watched him leave, before smiling his first real, genuine smile in a long time. 

He thinks he just made a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple things:  
> 1\. I mention in here that Dream thinks George doesn't eat often because of his slimmer build. Now, this in no way means that I think every skinny person doesn't eat often. I'm just saying, in this fic, George doesn't. I don't want to offend anyone.  
> 2\. I'm sorry if my writing is hard to read. I write in a third person omniscient POV, which means I know the thoughts and feelings of every character. I'm not trying to head-hop and make things confusing lmao  
> 3\. This chapter feels like it drags on. I get great ideas for stories, and how I want things to happen, but I suck at making filler chapters and chapters that lead up to it. Anyone have any advice? 
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are appreciated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very much appreciated :)
> 
> Please let me know if there are any grammar mistakes, I'm not perfect.


End file.
